Falling
by Clem1
Summary: Kathy is entangled unwillingly in the newsboy strike of 1899. Her life's been sheltered before this, but so has the life of the newsie she's fallen for. Can Kathy and Davey make it through the tepestuous times together? (sorry, aol screwed up the dialog
1. Default Chapter

I walk to my school building every morning. My favorite route to take is past the newspaper distribution center. I think it's for the New York Times, or the World Paper. Anyways, it's usually empty by the time I pass. The other day was different. There was a swarm of newsboys crowded around the entrance. I watched them jockey for position when a girl I knew walked by. Poor Amanda, she was so embarrassed when they all took their hats off. I believe I even heard a couple of them call her an angel. I immediately wanted to turn around and take another route after that. It's not that I disliked the newsies, I didn't even know them, but I am extremely uncomfortable around people with whom I am unacquainted. They tend to poke fun at me. Mostly my weight, actually. I am extremely skinny, and people think I'm malnourished. "Oh well," I thought out loud, " I just have to suck it up and go." But, as I was approaching the newsboys I heard one of them, literally, scream in the loudest voice possible. "Baby born wit' t'ree (three) heads!" That seemed to be all the newsboys' cues to stampede out onto the streets yelling their own headlines. "Crap!" I exclaimed as I was run over by the horde of newsboys. They managed to knock me over and step on my books. Now, not only was I late for school, but also I would have to endure a torturous day in a soiled skirt.  
  
After my classes I decided to take a different route home. I guess I was still a little apprehensive about passing the newspaper distribution center again after my morning experience. As I was walking. Nicely as you please, down the street I heard a shrill whistle behind me. Just as I was turning to investigate, a tall gray blur slammed into my backside propelling me forward, and into the mud. Further soiling my outfit. I heard the gray blur, who was joined by two smaller blurs, all newsies, yell to me, "'scuse me ma'am." Just as I was standing up and collecting myself a loud, angry voice screamed at me from behind, "Move!" Of course, I had no time to even think of moving before a hand shoved me roughly to the side of the street. There I promptly tripped over the corner, and fell once again. "Kathy," I thought, "today is just not your day." If I had only known what the week would bring. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer That I always forget to put in the first chapter: I don't own Newsies. I do own Kathy and her family. Feel free to use them; I don't care.  
  
Oh, yeh, it would be nice if people reviewed. Criticism is good for me.  
  
Now, on with the story:  
  
"I must be late," I thought on arriving home. My father was already home from work. I had no mother. A furtive glance at the tall grandfather clock in the farthest corner of my family's one room tenement quickly corrected my notion, but further perplexed me as to why my father was not at the factory working. "Daddy," I asked softly, "What are you doing home from work so early?" I regretted the question as soon as it came out of my mouth. Perhaps it would rub my father the wrong way, make him mad- you know what I mean? I hate getting people mad at me. To my surprise he wasn't angry, but his face- oh his face! It was sullen. His frown was deeper than I had ever seen it before. His eyes had lost their youthful shine-, which they'd always had. The worst part was his cheeks. They were no longer red and healthy looking, but sunken and almost gray. I wondered what could make his spirits drop so low as that. Fearing the worst, I listened to his soft, almost desperate voice as he answered my question. "I was fired." He answered simply. He offered no explanation as to how or why. I decided it would be best to drop the subject of work, so I said nothing else and went to begin preparing supper. Nearly a full half an hour later he began talking slowly and softly, almost methodically. His thick German accent, blending with his carefully placed English words. "Your brother will find a job and you will find a job. Your two jobs should get us through until I find a new job. You will not attend school any longer Then we can keep our home." Of course, a dank, dark, crowded tenement is hardly a home, but as long as we called it one we could pretend it was. My father's voice trailed off into incoherent German muttering after that. While I was glad to be out of that horrid, wretched, terrible school I was also upset about my father's unemployment. What could he have possibly done to be fired? Being poor meant that we had almost no rights. At least we were batter off than the orphans. I've heard it said that every human needs someone to look down upon. I felt better knowing I was better off than the orphans and the street rats were. Then my thoughts began to drift from fear to apprehension. I had never done any work before. How would I find a job? A terrible ashy smell interrupted my thoughts. I had burned supper. "Oh well," I thought as I put the slightly charred meat on a plate. My thoughts, worries and fears would have to wait until tomorrow. I called my brother, Johnny, and my father to the table to eat. 


	3. Chapter 3

It is late in the evening, almost night, when most of the lower East Manhattan newsboys return to their lodging house every night. I know you wonder how I know this. It is because my dear son, Mark, is a newsboy, or a 'newsie,' as the boys call themselves. He doesn't know I am here. I don't think he would accept me if he knew. But, I watch over him every day from my tenement window.  
  
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"Wake up!" Kloppman yelled to the groggy newsies, "The presses are rollin'!" Specs never had to be woken up by Kloppman. He was awake nearly a half hour before everyone else every day. What he did during that time was known only by himself and God. That was the way he wanted to keep it. He didn't know that there was someone else in on the secret.  
  
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Every morning I wake up at four o'clock, an hour before the newsies are roused. Mark wakes himself a half-hour before anyone else. During that time he takes out his bible and prays. Today he takes a tattered photograph out from under his mattress, and cries. The picture is of me. He believes I am dead. I cannot bear to be the reason for his tears. I must tell him of my existence. There is a sound from the corner of my tiny apartment. The baby is no longer asleep. I will have Mary take care of him. Mary is sixteen now, and should learn how to take care of the baby. After all, I wont be strong enough to even talk soon. My days are numbered. I must confront my son before I die. I cannot bear the thought of leaving this earth without him knowing how much I love him.  
  
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"Hey Specs," Duchy called out to his best friend, " Ya gat a lettah!" At the mention of mail the newsies all stopped in their tracks. No one ever got mail at the lodging house. There was no reason for anyone to send anything to the newsies. "What's it say?" Jack pleaded Specs to share. " Ya' gotta' give him a chance ta' open it foirst, Cowboy," Kloppman reminded the eager teen. Specs opened the plain envelope with trembling fingers. The few letters received at the lodging house were always bad news. But who did he know that would send him any news? He had no family- anymore, and all of his friends were newsies, like him. He began reading the letter out loud. "Dear Mark," "Mark?" Race asked, clearly amused, "you'se name is Mark?" Specs just ignored the short Italian. "You most likely do not know who I am, or why I am writing this letter to you. Rest assured that I am someone who loves you very much. I am someone who has watched over you since you were born. I am also someone with a lot of explaining to do. Please join me and my family for supper tonight at six o'clock. You should be done selling by then. Love, Someone who cares (*author's note- he can find the apartment by using the return address*) "Are ya' gonna' go, or not?" Jack asked, breaking the tense silence.  
  
"yeah, I feel like it's da right 'ting foah' me ta' do. Ya' know?" Specs looked at Jack with the question in his eyes. Jack just nodded his head somberly in response. Then, all the newsies left the lodging house to sell the afternoon edition.  
  
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I wrote him a letter. I am too afraid to tell him who I am. I must be braver if I am going to meet my son. He looks so much like his father.  
  
~flash back~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
" You bitch!" He hit her "I will not take care of this baby! This is a whore's baby! I'll bet it's not even mine!" He hit her again. "He looks just like you, though!" She had responded. Stupid! Her husband would probably hit the baby too, now that she had said that. To her surprise, he didn't. What he did do was much worse. He evicted her. "Get out of my house, and don't ever come back. If I ever see you, or that boy again, I'll kill you both!" With that she picked up her screaming child and ran. She had nowhere to go, and no money. She could not possibly care for a baby. Around day three of her new life she decided it was better for everyone if she gave the boy away. The orphanage would not do. She only had one other person to turn to, her decesied father's best friend, John Kloppman. Leaving the child wrapped in a blanket with a photograph and a note on the front door, she knocked rapidly twice, then dissapered into an alley. She knew her son would be well taken care of at the lodging house. 


	4. The REAL xhapter 3

AHHH! I'm sorry, dudes and dudettes! That's a different story. I must have messed up, here's the real chapter 3!  
  
Disclaimer: Yada yada, the regular... (sorry if the spelling and all that stuff sucks- I lost Word, and now I have to type on Wordpad...which doesn't have spell check...)  
  
The very next day I began to look for a job. "Stupid me," I thought, "looking for honest work in New York." I hoped my little brother, John, was having better luck. As I was thinking these thoughts my ears picked up a voice shrieking "Extra!, Extra!" The shreiking seemed to be aimed in my direction. I was wondering what newsboy would try to sell a paper to me when another, more familiar, voice came up behind me and blurted out "Heya Kathy!" Turning sharply on my heel I came face to face with John who was standing next to another boy about his age. They were both covered in...something, something black. "Johnathon!" I cried in disgust and horror, "What are you doing playing with this little boy while you're supposed to be looking for work? I'm busy trying to find a job, and all you can do is run around with your friends? We could lose our home!" I was practically burning in my rage. "We aint playin', Kathy!" he cried in defense, equally disgusted as I was that I would assume he was playing a game at such a serious time. "You aren't playing? What are you doing, then?" I let my voice drip with sarcasm to let him know that I did not beleive him at all. I mean, what could he possibly be doing other than playing in a crowded park. He couldn't be selling anything, he had nothing peddle. "Selling papes." "What are 'papes'" "Ya know, newspapers, I sell 'em now!" This was too much. He claimed to be a newsboy, but he had no 'papes,' as he called them! "If you're a newsboy, where are the newspapers you should be selling?" "Jack has 'em." "If jack has them how are you selling them?" Oh! I had him there! I was celebrating my little victory with a smug smile on my face when the newsie I had run into the day before ambled up to us and positioned himself between John and I, with his back to me. Les, Johhny," he started in a deep, but non-threatening voice, "if yous two don't start sellin' some papes we'll have ta' eat some of dem, 'cause me an' Dave can't sell 'em all ourselves." "See, I am a newsie!" John jelled as he ran away. I shot daggers into his back as he ran away. The nerve, he aught to know how to talk to his older sister. And to think, he embarrased me right in front of my peer! "So, you'se Kathy?" Jack snapped me out of my thoughts. Normally I would have tried to act tough to hide my nervousness, but Jack seemed nice enough to converse with. I shook my head up and down. "Yes." "You'se sure do look familiar," Jack commented. He thought for a moment. Then the realization hit him. "Hey, you'se dat' goil I ran inta' yesterday!" He hit the nail on the head. "Yes, I am. What was that about anyway?" I asked. "Sorry," Jack started with, it was good to know that somebody had taught him some manners even though he was just a newsie. "Snyder, da' warden of da' refuge, been afta' me foah (for) a while now. he saw me sellin' with Davey an' Les yesterday an' he chased us around all afternoon." Now I was confused. "Wait a minute, What's the refuge, why was that man chasing you, and who are Davey and Les?"  
  
Bum bum bum, that's all for now. I know it's not really a good stopping point but all this dialog is tiring me out... Please review!!!! 


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